


moonlit

by yerimsus (orphan_account)



Category: NCT (Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: M/M, taeten if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19355251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/yerimsus
Summary: Maybe Winwin could hide his feelings in the dark.





	moonlit

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to LONGASSMARK on twt <3
> 
> follow my twt here!! https://mobile.twitter.com/seuIgiggIes

 

The sun sired a handful of golden tendrils webbing on Winwin's face, searing through behind his closed lids. His eyes gradually open to his sunlit surroundings, his arm tingly from cushioning his own head. Above him, the spotless blue sky greets his waking eyes, body recalibrating from the slumber he's taken under the acacia tree, compromising the free time he has left for this week. It is what it is: An allowance of time is given to each member of NCT to liven up their spirits and free themselves from the stresses of the showbiz industry. His limbs feel hard and stoic from having practised for hours on end during this week, their promotion for their comeback is just around the corner, heeding patiently. Their energy pumped up as he imagines the faces that would beam at them below the stage.

His eyes dart to the trees oscillating softly against the wind, its shadows casting random shapes on Winwin. From the distance he could see the athletic figure of Yuta moving restlessly in the game he's engrossed in with Taeyong as his opponent. His face glowing under the sun, teeth showing in a smile Winwin has always been fond of, arms outstretched as he hugs Taeyong and playfully knocks him into the ground.

Winwin wishes it could always be like this: Languid and easy. No straints of what may loom behind hovering in the air above them.

 

When Winwin comes to, Yuta was already lying down on the practice room with his arm shading the lights from his face. His white shirt plastered to the sweat on his skin, breathing heavily through his mouth.

"Tired?" Winwin asks, plopping down onto the space next to him, placing the water bottle he's bought for Yuta next to.

Yuta peeks through his arm. "Certainly."

Winwin chuckles, feeling also the ominous presence of fatigue hanging over him as he rests his head on his knees. He feels Yuta sit next to him, the mirror reverberating behind him as Yuta finds himself a comfortable position. They find themselves more listless and uneasy than ever as the date of their comeback starts reaching towards the end of their calendar with a restless vigor that has them waiting with bated breaths. Their new title track rings in Winwin's ears even as he tries to rest from the friction of dancing and grooving; the melody stuck in his head, the bridge and the chorus echoing mindlessly to his every thought.

His line of thinking only halts when he feels the abrupt palm of Yuta's hand hold his head and bring it upon his shoulder. The hardness unforgiving on Winwin's temple and the fringes of Yuta's hair tickling Winwin's forehead as Yuta lets go of the hand holding the other boy's head all the while staring into the distance.

Yuta starts, "You've grown quiet. I've been trying to get your attention."

"Ah, I've been reviewing our steps. I might have forgotten some." He blushes, knowing fully well that he's lying, aware of the vicinity of Yuta's head from his. He can almost smell the dying perfume of Yuta's shirt. Almost.

The lights suddenly look so bright to Winwin, flashing through the closed lids of his blinking eyes. The aircondition too cold and prickly against his skin as his own sweat dries from the surface of his shirt, and the smell of Yuta's shampooed hair wisping through his nostrils. His own heartbeat buzzes behind his ribcage like a thousand fireworks had just set from the sudden lightness of his stomach.

Yuta doesn't answer, and before long, before they could even be conscious of it, they fall asleep. Yuta resting his cheek against Winwin's head, strands of his hair caressing Yuta's closed lids and the profile of his nose.

They only wake up once the members have arrived from the convenience store and the others have started packing up, rousing them awake from the comfortability of their own bubble.

 

One, two. Three four five.

The younger boy is unmoving and still from his seat at their dressing room, going through the steps one last time before they get out on stage. The others are patiently waiting as they, too, try to remember their choreography with a clean-cut focus: Taeyong fixated on the blank wall, muttering to himself, his narrow movements riveting in the air around him as Ten watches him carefully. At the last instance, Taeyong looks into Ten's unwavering stare and his movement smooths out into an embrace as his head dives under the older boy's armpit. Ten breaks out into a smile, his knuckles connecting with Taeyong's head.

Winwin doesn't know what's between the two, but their carelessness is enough to make him jealous that he finds himself risking a glance towards Yuta.

Stop it, Winwin, he whispers to himself.

But too late, Yuta is already staring back at him. A playful smile etches its way to his lips as he winks at the younger boy. Redness creeping from his chest to his ears, Winwin makes a disgusted expression at Yuta's face, but before the older one could even retaliate, a staff manager opens the doorframe and calls them in. Ten lets go of Taeyong as Taeyong straightens up, the tips of their fingers brushing against each other's for a fleet of a second.

 

Winwin beams at the staff of the music show as they applaud them for a successful comeback stage, his nerves still tingling from the adrenaline rush and the chants of their fans echoing in his ears. He didn't mess up, that was that. He did not mess up! His movements were sharp and smooth, hitting one step to another with a graceful tact. Yuta claps him on the shoulder as he envelopes Winwin into an embrace, his own face smiling the smile Winwin has fallen for.

"Told you you weren't going to mess up," he yells over the music. Dark hair falling over his eyes.

Winwin only smiles and hugs him back for the second time.

 

On their way to the dressing room as the boys are trudging by, they bump into Twice. Ironically, their comeback was the start of the end of Twice's promotion period. Their footsteps halt as they bow to the older group. They were prettier upclose, their beauty ethereal and not given justice by the studio lights rehearsed and fixated upon them, and one that cannot be translated through the medium of the definitive cameras of the harsh industry. They smile.

Only then when they start walking again does Winwin realise of Yuta's lingering glance at Sana's face.

 

Winwin thinks he must have imagined it.

 

Before long, the memory has been shoved to the back of Winwin's mind, their comeback the topmost priority in his head. No distractions.

But the fracture of the future pans out like that: the simple glances, the bows, and the cafeteria at the music shows where all things happen.

Winwin does not recognize it, but Yuta is much more vigorous and happier in his every squeeze of Winwin's hand, the distracted glances, and the smiles that reach up to his eyes.

Winwin does not recognize it, but he does when Yuta goes out once, coming back at the crack of dawn, and slipping underneath the covers of his bed as he pretends to sleep.

Yuta rouses him awake. "Psst."

His eyes groggily open to Yuta's grinning face, stifling a laugh and a smile that might wake their other roommates.

"Yuta?" he says, pretending. "What are you doing? Why are you home just now?"

Winwin searches his face, unaware of the news Yuta harbors for him.

"I went to see Sana."

He must have heard differently. "What?"

"Sana. Of Twice. We're dating."

The news registers to him with a deluge of numbing air, but before he could even react Yuta hugs him as he muffles his celebratory yell into Winwin's chest.

And before Winwin could even concoct up a reaction to repudiate the mask he's held on for so long, before it even starts to crack, Yuta's breathing gets heavy and then lighter, the rousing sound of sleep slipping past the older boy's nostrils.

For once, Winwin could unravel the spool of feelings that has adjoined all throughout the years of being the member closest to Yuta. He could unveil the pretentious air as he lets Yuta hug him in the dark, the moonlight chiseling their figures into the mattress of his bedframe. An uncolored gray seeping into his surroundings.

He'd have to wake Yuta later.

 

 


End file.
